Vanilla
by AMKelley
Summary: Will is afraid that his and Hannibal's relationship is too vanilla, but Hannibal has a special exercise just for Will. *PWP, sexual content, rape fantasy, non-con elements, consensual kink, bloodplay, knifeplay, blood kink, rough sex, choking*


Will was sat across from Hannibal in his office, rubbing idly at his eyelids and trying to comprehend what Hannibal was propositioning him with. Will could feel a migraine setting in. It was unspeakable for one thing, but it also seemed crazy enough to make sense. A special kind of crazy, that is. Still, it was overwhelming, especially the way Hannibal had brought it up so casually. Like they were discussing dinner plans.

"I don't know," Will finally says. He's stopped rubbing the headache from his eyes but his gaze is fixed on the ground, chewing on his thumb nail. "It sounds like it could be dangerous."

"Danger is what you expose yourself to everyday, Will. What makes this any different?" Hannibal asks, observing Will with an apathetic expression. Face unmoving.

"It makes all the difference," Will persists, holding a hand over his mouth and deducing the pros and cons swiftly in his mind. "I step into the minds of the aggressor, not the victim. The mindset isn't on one set path. It's always changing with each opportunity of escape. It isn't predictable."

"You would not be reenacting a crime scene, Will. You would be reenacting a fantasy designed for yourself. The mindset is what you make of it," Hannibal says smoothly leaning forward slightly and clasping his hands together. "You wouldn't pretend to be someone else. You would still be Will Graham."

"And that makes it safer, how?" Will inquires with unconvinced sarcasm, looking up at Hannibal with such childish petulance.

"I never said it would be safe," Hannibal clarifies, holding Will's attention. The way he stares at Will is predatory and calculating, like he's anticipating the his prey's next move. "I am simply asking for a leap of faith. And trust. Trust in me, as well as yourself."

"You're asking to rape me," Will points out blatantly, being obtuse as ever.

"I'm asking you to partake in a sexual fantasy that includes you being raped by me, yes," he agrees.

It's so smooth on Hannibal's tongue and Will hates the way his sentence come out. Hannibal likes to word things in such a way that makes it seem like he's agreeing with you, giving you a false sense of victory, when in reality he's actually bending your view on the situation by altering or adding key phrases.

Will knows what Hannibal means, but Will discourages the idea by making it sound worse than it really. He doesn't know why he's like that, but Hannibal probably does. If he were in Hannibal's shoes he would most likely say it was because he didn't like feeling helpless, or maybe just naturally likes to struggle and defy.

"I still don't see why we're even having this conversation," Will stalls, playing for time because he knows Hannibal is about to make his ultimatum.

"Would you say that you find our relationship to be unsatisfying?" Hannibal asks, and if there was a faint flicker of inadequacy in his eyes, Will doesn't notice it.

"Not the word I would use to describe it," Will huffs indignantly, hating how this feels like a session about his sex life with someone else. Not him and Hannibal.

"How would you describe it?" Hannibal presses. He loves the way Will squirms subtly in his chair, getting nervous and twitchy by being scrutinized.

"Vanilla," he says outright without hesitation because Hannibal deserves a direct answer. "I'd say our sex life is vanilla."

"Vanilla isn't particularly bad. It's quite common for people to acquire a certain sexual taste. One that makes them feel safe and secure. Enough to satisfy their needs but not give them what they really want," Hannibal explains, bringing Will at ease with positive ideals and a calming voice.

"And your idea of broadening my horizons is reenacting a rape fantasy?" Will interjects, still a little unsettled but not completely opposed.

"You have tasted vanilla for so long that your taste buds are becoming more immune to the flavor," Hannibal states, using euphemisms to make Will understand. "You need something with a bit more zest."

"Are you dissatisfied with our sex life?" Will asks suddenly, gauging Hannibal's reaction, or lack thereof.

"This isn't about me, Will," he deflects expertly, but Will makes an unimpressed little pout. He supposes he could humor Will a little. "I am satisfied with whatever satisfies you. I would never force you into something you didn't want nor would I overwhelm you prematurely."

"How sentimental of you..."

The remark is that of what a child would make because that's how Will is acting right now: like a child. He somehow keeps forgetting that Hannibal had the common courtesy to suggest it and even ask for permission. Maybe Will was being selfish, after all it was just a fantasy, but it would feel real because that's how Will saw things.

Still, the main reason why Will was apprehensive to the idea was because he's afraid of losing control. The thought of his mind discerning that the scenario could be real makes him cringe internally. He might react in a very panicked and real way to the point he reacts violently against Hannibal.

"I'm unstable. I could get lost in my own mind and lash out."

"I am well prepared for that if it happens," Hannibal says, sitting back in his chair.

"You mean when it happens," Will corrects, rubbing at his chin nervously and looking back to the ground.

"It won't, Will," Hannibal insists, quirking the side of his mouth ever so subtly. "It would be in a controlled environment and we wouldn't have to do anything you don't want. You'd be in total control."

He doesn't exactly believe this, but Will can't help but take a leap of faith.

Will had been toying with the idea for a while now after Hannibal suggested it. At first he was skeptical, afraid that something would go wrong or things would get out of hand, but Hannibal had promised that it wouldn't interfere with Will's current mental state. Will, above all others, decided to put his trust in Hannibal's words.

That didn't necessarily mean that he was more optimistic about it. Just more compliant.

Tonight was when it would all unfold. When the assault would take place in the comfort of his own home nonetheless. It didn't have to happen here, Will knew, but he figured it might as well since the situation presented itself as a band aid. If it was going to happen, which it was, it had to be done the proper way. Blunt and fast.

The fantasy itself called for a certain mindset and this could not be achieved by sugar coating it. Will didn't like sugar coated placebos that went down easy anyway. It was disingenuous to the facts and Will coveted facts in their purest form no matter how hard it was to swallow sometimes.

Will walks up to his front door. The game is on now.

"I open the front door. It's already unlocked because I never lock it," Will observes out loud, reading it out like a crime scene before him. "There is no need to lock it. I'm miles away from anyone. I'm completely alone... Or so I think."

Will closes the door behind him, shrugging off his coat like he would any other night. He looks around his living room surreptitiously, knowing he's going to be assaulted but not sure how or when. Will shakes his head, getting back into the mindset of an unsuspecting victim as he hangs his coat on the hook on the wall.

"My dogs are all asleep, which is odd because they usually wait up for me. It's not uncommon but somehow this doesn't feel right," Will goes on to say, stepping further into his house. He freezes for a moment. "This causes me to become slightly wary of my surroundings. Either way, I ultimately ignore my instincts and shrug it off as I switch on the lights."

The lights blink on, blinding Will for a moment mostly because the long dark drive back to his house in Wolf Trap unprepared his eyes for the adjustment. His vision was impaired, if only for a few seconds, but he rubbed the sting away from his eyes and proceeded into his kitchen.

Will gets himself a glass of water and downs it quickly, adam's apple bobbing as his throat constricts with each motion. He gasps damply as his lungs inflate with much needed air and sets the now empty glass down. Will doesn't notice that one of his knives is missing from the knife holder adjacent to the sink and if he does, he pretends not to. It's all a part of the design.

He doesn't bother to put away the glass because Will is most likely going to use it sometime during the night. Will lets his fingers slide from the glass, lingering a moment longer as he casts another gaze at his family. He faintly smiles and retires to his bedroom, unsuspecting, flicking on the lights in the process.

"The window is open and I can't recall ever doing it, but there's an off chance that I did. I don't read too much into," Will inspects at the drastic shift in temperature. He walks around to the side of his bed and sits down. "My body and mind are too tired to put the pieces together. I soon regret this fact."

Will is taking off his shoes with lazy fingers and dropping them to the floor carelessly. He stands up again to take his pants off and unceremoniously chucks them towards the closet. There is a faint noise that comes from the closet but Will doesn't take it into consideration.

"I turn my back towards the closet for a second but it's long enough. This is my aggressor's design. This is the opening he was waiting for," Will recites, prompting his closet door to be slammed open with little finesse. "My attacker comes up from behind me, making his presence known. It happens too fast for me to react properly."

Hannibal grabs Will around the waist, making Will's words come true as they tumble out on shaky breaths. They are crystallized in this moment, in this tableaux of prey and predator, as Will concentrates on how the scenario would play out.

"I struggle out of instinct but my efforts are redundant as my captor threatens me with violence," he says out loud. "Of course it's a knife. He wouldn't use a gun. No... This is far too intimate for him. Too personal. Either way, the knife does it's job in scaring me into compliance."

Hannibal raises a knife to Will's throat, pressing the purposely sharp blade to flushed skin. He buries his face into the side of Will's head, burrowing his nose into the messy hair so he can smell it thoroughly. His broad body is pressed against Will's back, holding him close enough to feel how shaken his body is under this kind of pressure. Hannibal waits for Will's direction.

"He swiftly turns me around and pushes me onto the bed so that I'm lying on my back. He wants me to know who he is. He wants me to watch."

The words become reality because Hannibal wills them to be, releasing Will and pushing him down roughly. Will's body bounces a few times before finally settling and he looks up at his attacker with scared wide eyes. Hannibal's face is relaxed into a subtle smirk, watching as the scene unravels before him and enjoying the genuinely frightened look on Will's face.

Hannibal takes the reigns for the time being, perverting the shift in control just marginally, to climb up on top of Will. He lodges his body between Will's thighs so the other man can not kick him and presses himself into Will's groin, eliciting a surprised gasp. Hannibal wraps a hand around Will's throat, causing Will to make a pitiful little whimper.

There's a faint flash of panic that graces Will's face and for a moment Hannibal believes it.

He has the knife in his other hand still, the one missing from Will's kitchen, bringing it down towards Will to make him squirm and plead pathetically. Will tries to struggle again, finding it pointless when Hannibal pins him down more firmly. It takes Will's breath away, restricting his airflow greatly. Hannibal takes the knife and poises it at the first button on Will's shirt.

It safe to say that Will's shirt doesn't survive the assault. One by one, Hannibal rests the knife at each button and cuts them off delicately and slowly, dragging out the suspense with more half hearted attempts from Will. They pop off and fly in various directions, bouncing to parts unknown within Will's room. These buttons that will later become reminders of this particular moment.

Hannibal parts open Will's button up shirt with the edge of the knife, making the younger man flinch reflexively. Hannibal seems pleased by this reaction because he smiles with satisfaction. He releases his grip on Will's throat slightly, giving him enough freedom to speak and carry on with his interpretation but not enough for an escape.

"He then takes the knife and drags the point of it down my chest, teasing me," Will says on a shivering breath as Hannibal repeats his words through actions. "It's not just to invoke fear. These are endearments to him. This is how he loves. And still, I struggle."

Cold sharp metal slides down the center of Will's chest and the whimper that comes out is broken by the shiver that wracks his body. Will tries to arch his abdomen in on itself, flinching away from the blade, but Hannibal presses it harder against him. Will gasps sharply, eyes blowing wide open, and Hannibal knows that this is real fear.

Will tries to raise his head to look down the length of his body past Hannibal's restricting hand, noticing a faint red line forming on his stomach. The cut wasn't deep, Hannibal made sure of that, and it was just above his belly button. Will has half a mind to stop this all right now, if it weren't for the rush of adrenaline it gave him, that is.

They share eye contact for a long beat, trying to decipher what was going to happen next, until Will finally submitted his consent in acquiesce. Hannibal's hand tightens around Will's neck once again, robbing the breath from him, when he bends down to lick at the light wound on Will's stomach.

This draws out another flinch because it stings Will's cut and it makes him push out a strangled whine. The muscles in his throat flex and retract only marginally and every breath Will takes is a blessing with how tight Hannibal's hand holds him down. Hannibal's tongue toys and probes the cut carefully to collect and swirl Will's blood around, diluting it with his saliva.

After Hannibal mends and sucks on the wound a moment longer, he rises up from Will's body to angle his head up. Hannibal bends down and captures Will's mouth, shoving his tongue in on one go so that Will can taste the copper of his own blood. Will struggles and tries to push against Hannibal, but this is for show to provoke Hannibal further.

Hannibal parts away from a breathless and gasping Will, making the younger man struggle for oxygen even more by squeezing his throat tighter. Will's lips are stained with red and the sight of him all flushed and disheveled is enough to send Hannibal over the edge. Hannibal presses his arousal into Will, making latter writhe across the width of the bed.

He can no longer take it. He has to take Will now or he'll do something more dangerous than just a small cut. Hannibal pulls back slightly, setting aside the knife for now and letting go of Will's already bruising neck. Hannibal proceeds to take his clothes off, keeping a watchful eye on Will as he lays there pitifully in tangled sheets and messy hair.

"This is the moment he's been waiting for," Will manages to pant out, remembering what he was supposed to be doing now that he has the chance. "After all the time he's spent meticulously planning this, he is ready to take what he thinks is rightfully his. He doesn't flip me over to take me from behind. No... He wants to watch me. He wants to see what he does to me. This is his design."

The shirt that hangs limply onto Will's body is ripped from him roughly with his underwear following soon after. Will is completely naked in every sense of the word and ultimately at the mercy of Hannibal. He can feel himself shrinking under Hannibal's scrutiny and it couldn't make him feel more alive.

"There are no more pretenses. No more teasing. The predator has caught it's prey and now he intends on consuming it explicitly. There's no one around for miles to hear the screams that follow. This is his design."

And with that final summation, that final realization, Hannibal takes what is his without any further preamble. He enters Will swiftly, wrapping a hand around his slender neck once again to assert his dominance. Hannibal moves his hips against Will's tense but now compliant body, thrusting in sharply and unrelenting. Will yells and sobs from the pain of Hannibal taking him.

Will had obviously prepared himself thoroughly before all of this, but he pretended for the sake of the fantasy. That was the point, wasn't it? The knife also returns, but only briefly. Briefly enough to cut Will lightly again, but on his collarbone this time. The care and precision Hannibal takes into consideration is heart wrenching and it stings Will when the blade marks him with red.

Hannibal is concentrating his attention on multitasking three actions all at once. The way his hips drive into Will's tight body, the hand the applies the right amount of pressure to Will's neck, and now the taste of blood on his tongue once more. Will's blood is sweet and tangy, overwhelming Hannibal's senses as he sucks on the freshly made wound.

Will is gasping out choked up sobs, pretending so good for Hannibal, and clawing at him weakly. Hannibal takes his free hand to pin one of Will's above his head, limiting his options for the whole kicking and screaming tactic. Will looks so beautiful when he's all flushed and pathetic, begging in silence for so form of mercy.

Hannibal sucks at the wound on Will's collarbone, making sure there's audible smacks and pops for Will to hear. He licks the cut tenderly, feigning compassion when he purposely lets it sting the sensitive and irritated skin. Just as before, Hannibal collects the blood in his mouth and transfers it to Will's, kissing him deeply as the coppery flavor swirls against their tongues.

Will's body twists in such a way that angles Hannibal's cock in the right direction to set him off. He moans openly, as much as he can, into Hannibal's dominating mouth and taking the harsh thrusts that send tremors through his shaken frame. The hands around his neck and wrist constrict marginally tighter, stilling Will even more as he fights to control his breathing as well as concentrate on his impending orgasm.

It's so shameless how Will arches up into Hannibal to rub his hard on between their abdomens, replicating the motion of grinding, and he can practically feel Hannibal smiling against his blood stained lips. Hannibal pulls back slightly and proceeds to lick the remains of blood off Will's lips, swallowing tiny gasps and strangled moans that go that leave his mouth incomplete.

Their mouths hang open as they both gasp in the sultry atmosphere between them, moving and responding to each other accordingly. Will's flushed cock rubs a certain way against Hannibal's abdomen and he comes with an almost thankful sob of completion, like it had pained him to finally get to his climax. His cock pulses across his and Hannibal's stomach, twitching with aftershocks.

The younger man's body goes slightly limp, but still undoubtedly tense from release, and Hannibal continues to thrust shallowly inside his trembling body. Hannibal's hand around Will's throat stems up towards his jaw instead and claims his mouth in a rough, lust-filled, and bruising kiss. Will struggles to breath out of his nose but responds willing to Hannibal's kiss nonetheless.

"How does it end, Will?" Hannibal asks fervently, keeping up the pace as he drives his cock deeply into Will's tight body. "Tell me how."

"He doesn't pull out," Will gasps, experiencing aftershocks when sensitive areas are stimulated. "I'm his now, so he has to claim me as such. He marks me the most intimate way he knows how."

This seems good enough for Hannibal because he does just that, like he had so many times before this. Somehow this time is different though. Maybe it's because the fantasy had really struck a nerve or two in Will or perhaps it was the fact that Will had put his trust in Hannibal and actually got positive results. Either way, Hannibal claims Will as his in this scenario and it's glorious.

Will can feel the way Hannibal twitches inside his tense body and he can feel the warmth spread throughout him when his lover reaches completion. Will wraps his legs around Hannibal's waist, trying to pull him in further and whining in frustration when it finally ends. Hannibal grins subtly but inside he's lighting up with unbridled joy.

Hannibal pulls Will close afterwards, tracing the two light cuts that mar Will's exquisite body. Hannibal smiles vaguely at what Will's blood tasted like, licking his lips in search for just a fleeting taste.

"Too much?" Hannibal asks after they lay in silence together in each other's embrace.

"Just right," Will confesses, shifting to pull the kitchen knife out from under him before placing it on the nightstand. "The perfect balance of control and chaos."

"It appears, Mr. Graham, that you are not so vanilla after all," Hannibal concludes in his best psychiatrist tone. "I do believe you are cured."

His beautifully bruised and marred Will turns his head towards him, staring at Hannibal with such trust and it sends a familiar jolt into Hannibal's system. Hannibal smiles, kissing Will once more.

He was going to have fun pushing Will's limits.


End file.
